Jonboat Squirrels

It’s just after eight of the a.m. and a typical gray December morning. Well maybe just a little more gray than usual.

A silent, shooting mist shrouds the Oconee River as the battered old Ouchita flatbottom glides downstream without a whisper. The river gurgles and laps around the two of us, all alone on the water so far this weekday. In the past hour, we have spoken maybe a dozen words, and those at the barest of whispers.

While our lips are kept motionless, the same certainly can’t be said of our eyes, which continually sweep the aged hardwoods that border the Oconee. Any hint of movement, no matter how slight, is quickly picked up, drawing our full attention.

The bushytails are out and about this morning, but they’re certainly not advertising their presence. My hunting partner and I have been slipping to and fro on the water for the first hour after daylight, waiting for the squirrels to come out and begin feeding along the riverbank.

We had put in at Blackshear’s Ferry Landing near Dublin, puttered upstream for a couple of miles as the first slits of sunlight began lighting up the eastern sky, then began floating back. A foot-controlled trolling motor enabled us to motivate at will in the sluggish current, swapping sides of the river according to terrain.

What we were looking for were stands of hardwoods, oaks and hickories, featuring acorns and hickory nuts. Though the landing is only a couple of miles outside the city limits of Dublin, this is an isolated area, with few houses along the riverbank. The squirrel population, along with all manner of other native game, is plentiful.

Our plan was to scan the trees for nests first, then ease over to take a closer look for moving squirrels. The first and foremost rule of the pair of us in the boat was to keep it quiet. Sounds carries well and far on the water, especially in an isolated area such as this.

And talk, even in a low, normal voice, would alert every wild animal within a couple hundred yards; and that’s quite a ways out of shotgun range. Scrape a boot or boat paddle against the aluminum and the same would hold true.

“Quiet” and “still” were the key words.

The first squirrel of the day came scampering down an oak, chattering at us for intruding in his territory. The mature boar came out on the short end of the argument; however, as a load of high-brass 6s from the old 16-gauge model 12 silenced his argument.

At the sounds of the scattergun, a well-hidden pair of wood ducks came whistling out of the shallows along the bank just ahead. Their takeoff was so surprising that it never even crossed my mind to shoot at them, even though duck season was open. As is their way, the woodies didn’t hang around long enough for either of us to come to a different decision.

The squirrel, meanwhile, came down with a meaty-sounding plop, landing in about 3 inches of water a foot or so off the bank and was retrieved looking for all the world like a soaked wharf rat.

Naturally, after our opening success we settled down to become even more intent on the trees. As mentioned, it was a very gray day. The mist blended with a sky tinted like aged steel, and the trees themselves melted in perfectly.

Also, this area of middle Georgia has not had enough cold weather to clear the leaves off those trees, and the thick vegetation made it even tougher on us. At times the boat was allowed to drift backward, with the front-mounted trolling motor purring on the lowest of speeds to hold us in position long enough to check out a particularly promising spot.

On one such occasion, we were homing in on a group of four nests in adjoining oaks as we came up on a sandbar jutting into the river. We decided to beach the boat and walk to them, only a dozen or so steps from the water’s edge. Just as my partner entered the fringe of the trees, however, a member of the clan we were looking for went high-tailing it across the ground and through the fallen leaves with a crunching rustle. Just as he made it to the first of the oaks we were checking, so did a load of lead, accounting for squirrel No. 2.

Author Daryl Gay with a fistful of Oconee River gray squirrels.

Then things really got interesting.

I was about 10 yards behind the shooter, with a clear view of the nests. At the shot, two squirrels came barreling out of one of them and headed upward at a gallop. If there is a more challenging shot than pointing a hard-kicking shotgun almost straight up while perched precariously on grease-slick river mud, I haven’t come across it lately.

It took three attempts to collect the pair, and the last shot was pure luck as I swung ahead, guessed which limb the bushytail was headed to and sent something there to greet him.

By the way, there are a couple of points to be stressed from this particular episode. First off, I knew whose land I was standing on and had permission to hunt it for both squirrel and deer. This can be a major problem on float trips, for if you step out of the boat onto someone’s land that doesn’t want you there, you are extremely liable for prosecution.

In fact, there are arguments surrounding the legality of shooting even from a boat in a river or stream that is not classified as a navigable, i.e., commercially used waterway. The Oconee and the squirrel-filled creeks that run into it, fall into this gray, for lack of a better word, area. As with any dilemma of this sort, it is best to check with the local conservation ranger.

Secondly, while it is semi-acceptable but not necessarily wise to stand up in your floating craft and scan certain trees, it’s not very advisable to touch off a scattergun while on such unstable footing. Especially if you’ve sloshed around the black mud and have boot bottoms covered with it, recoil combined with an aluminum boat bottom can provide you with a very sudden but not-so-refreshing bath.

Despite its minor drawbacks, the shotgun is by far the preferred weapon for hunting in this manner. Many of the shots you’ll get will be at running, jumping targets and a rifle doesn’t give you much of a chance. Then, too, the tiny lead pellets don’t rip up near as much meat as a .22 bullet, and every delicious bit helps here.

Float trips can be as short or as long as you like, depending on time and weather considerations. For instance, putting in at the Johnson County Landing on the Oconee upstream from Blackshear’s Ferry and taking out at the latter will give you roughly a 7.5-mile ride. Going in at the Ferry and coming out downstream at the East Dublin Landing is about a 4.5-mile ride.

Side trips into productive creeks can lengthen your stay and you can always take midday lunch break on a sandbar. Should you decide on the latter, take along a propane stove, a gallon or two of water, a large pot, a package of dumplings and seasoning for the squirrels you will undoubted collect over the course of the morning.

If you’ve never tried squirrel dumplings, there’s quite a treat in store. All you have to do is dump in the meat, boil until tender, then add the dumplings and simmer until soft. The whole process takes only an hour or so.

And there’s nothing like wolfing them down in the solitude of a river swamp.

We collected a half-dozen in a leisurely morning’s hunt and spotted several more out of shooting range. But that was for the best—at least we have several reasons for returning.